


Run of the Mill

by magictrixie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magictrixie/pseuds/magictrixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are hunters who, when they're not solving murders, hunt for the things that go bump in the night. When a nest of vampires finally ends its dormant spell, John thinks that it's exactly what they need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run of the Mill

“You do realize that the dead body is the least of our worries,” John said as he pulled the latex gloves off of his hands. “An attack like this…there’s bound to be a whole nest.”

Sherlock stood up and stepped away from the body.

“Of course there’s a nest,” Sherlock peeled off his own gloves and looked up at the doctor standing across from him. “It’s just outside of Bristol.”

“You already know where…of course you already know where it is,” John rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone on an old fashioned hunt. I was getting a bit tired of these run of the mill murders and robberies. This is a nice change.”

Sherlock gave a noncommittal grunt and turned away, making his way to the street to wave down a cab. John was close behind.

“You’ve hunted vampires before?” John asked as they ambled into the cab.

Sherlock looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Right,” John said, looking out of his window. “I’m afraid I don’t have any supplies for this sort of hunt. I was under the impression that vampires were going extinct.”

“They are,” Sherlock was drumming his fingers on his legs. “So they wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves without a good reason. And what reason could a nest of vampires have for exposing themselves after they’ve been dormant for such a long time?”

John looked over to Sherlock, who was watching him.

“Oh, um, maybe they couldn’t control themselves anymore?” John added. “They needed to feed.”

“Very good but, of course, completely wrong,” Sherlock turned to completely face the man sitting next to him. “This was planned. If it was something as simple as needing to feed, they could have chosen anyone in or around Bristol who, if missing, would go unnoticed for a bit. Instead they chose a university professor in central London. Why? It’s because this was planned; they want hunters to know.”

“I still don’t understand. Even if this was planned, why would they want us to know?”

Sherlock straightened out again, a smirk playing on his lips.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Soon, the cab pulled onto Baker Street and they made it into their flat. When Sherlock retreated immediately into his room, John decided to give himself some time to relax. He made tea, grabbed the day’s newspaper, and sat comfortably in his chair.

Eventually, after John had spent about an hour alternating between his tea and his newspaper, Sherlock emerged from his room with two bags in his hands.

“Sherlock,” John didn’t look up from his paper. “A third person has gone missing this week, and they all worked for companies associated with the university the professor taught at. Don’t you think that’s at least an eight?”

“I’m afraid it’s a mere three in the face of a nest of vampires,” Sherlock mumbled as he opened the two bags and dumped their contents on the table.

“What’s all this?” John asked, gesturing to the two machetes, two guns, and a jar of what looked like blood sitting on the counter.

“Everything we’re going to need, of course.”

“Need?” John leaned forward a bit. “For what?”

Sherlock gave John a look that, at this point, he’d learned to decipher as his you’re being extra thick today look.

“For the hunt, John,” Sherlock rolled his eyes and lifted the jar of blood. “This is dead man’s blood. It will poison the vampires and incapacitate them, but it won’t last long. We’ll use the machetes to decapitate them.”

It was John’s turn to roll his eyes.

“This isn’t my first time, you know,” he crossed his arms. “I’ve been a hunter longer than you have.”

Sherlock ignored that comment in favor of pacing back and forth; his fingers resting under his chin in his usual thinking pose.

“They’ll know we’re coming, they’ll be expecting us. This is what they want, but why? They’re going extinct, it poses a huge risk to their safety and, ultimately, that’s all they care about. Something must have changed, then. It must not be a risk anymore. Exactly! It isn’t a risk anymore. They’re ready for us. They’re prepared. But how could they be prepared if they’re going extinct…oh. Oh!”

“What’ve you got?” John chuckled as Sherlock’s head snapped towards his. John loved seeing him like this; it was just as amazing as it was that first night. It was times like this that John knew, despite what Donovan and Anderson might say, that Sherlock was one of the most utterly human people he had ever known. He’d never seen such raw passion anywhere in his life, and to see it in the eyes of the man standing in front of him, it was beautiful.

“I know where the missing people are.”

oOo

John was on his knees, far enough away so that the creatures in the nest wouldn’t be suspicious, but close enough that the saffron burning in his hand would be effective. He made sure to rub some in his hair, on his clothes, and to put a little in his pockets and shoes. This was the only thing protecting them from getting noticed, covering their scent, at least until they got inside and exposed themselves.

“Ready?” John whispered, looking over to Sherlock who was rubbing the burnt saffron through his hair.

Sherlock grabbed the machetes, covered in dead man’s blood, and handed one to John.

“There are three obvious entrances,” Sherlock gestured to the abandoned building that was a little ways off. “There’s the front door, the back door, and the roof. We, of course, will be going through none of them. They’re all completely guarded. On the right side of the building there’s a window, it’s high and leads to the second floor, that’s where we’ll enter. From the second floor we’ll make our way downstairs, with any luck we’ll still be undetected, and we’ll shoot them with the blood, question them, and then decapitate them.”

“Sounds good,” John gave a curt nod. Anticipation was roiling in his gut, and he was ready to fight.

As they approached the building, they could hear loud music playing.

“Most likely a celebration,” Sherlock whispered as they got close to the window they’d need to climb through. “They’re not going to kill the people they kidnapped; they’re going to turn them.”

When they made to where they needed to be, the climbed onto the building’s dumpster and pulled themselves through the window, careful to avoid the broken class. One small cut could alert the vampires and no amount of burnt saffron in the world could stop that.

The music was loud, but other than that there were no sounds. They couldn’t hear the cheering and partying that vampires were known for. John looked over to Sherlock and noticed that he seemed equally as perplexed, and as they finally made it to the bottom of the stairs and onto the first floor, they were left with more questions than answers.

“Um, Sherlock?” John gestured to the room in front of him, where the three missing people lay dead on the ground, seemingly drained of their blood. “I thought you said they were going to turn them.”

John turned to Sherlock and saw that his eyes were flicking all over the room, most likely making silent deductions and figuring out where he went wrong.

“Oh,” he mumbled eventually, rolling his eyes. “Of course, this is a trap.”

“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes,” they spun around as they heard a voice coming from behind them, and the music cut out.

A seemingly young woman with long blonde curls wearing a black gown stepped out of the shadows. Behind her were two young men, both wearing suits. She snapped her fingers and two more men stepped out on the other side of the room, grabbing Sherlock and John and holding them in place.

“Who are you?” John spat out, not struggling to free himself just yet, knowing it would be futile.

“You can call me Felicity,” she smiled and took a few more steps forward before stopping. “Oh, before I forget, disarm them please.”

The men holding them emptied their coats and pockets, pulling out everything from their machetes to a piece of chewing gum John had forgotten about.

“You’re right about it being a trap,” Felicity twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she took slow steps towards them. “And might I say that you fell into it quite beautifully. It’s so cute how prepared you thought you were, what with the saffron and all.”

John rolled his eyes and struggled against the “man” holding him.

“Why are we here?”

“They’re going to turn us,” John heard Sherlock’s voice from next to him.

Felicity’s smile widened as she finally made it in front of Sherlock.

“Good job, Mr. Holmes,” her tone was sarcastic. “What a great addition to the team you’ll make. As you both know, we’re being picked off one by one, but with Holmes and Watson on our side we’ll be unstoppable.”

She let out a soft sigh and turned around, her back to Sherlock. He used this small respite to break free from the vampire holding his arms and jam a needle into the woman’s neck, pumping her full of dead man’s blood. John didn’t allow himself time to think about where Sherlock may have hid the needle before he was slamming his head back into the nose of the man holding him and charging at the one who, once again, grabbed hold of Sherlock. John grabbed his blood soaked machete off the ground and decapitated the man before he could do anything, leaving the three others free to corner them.

Grabbing Sherlock’s arm, John backed them against the wall, his machete still in hand.

“So what’s the plan?” John mumbled as the men started closing in on them.

“Plan?” Sherlock’s voice was detached, and when John glanced over, he saw that Sherlock wasn’t looking at the men in front of him, but over their shoulders.

“This is getting pretty urgent,” John scraped out just as Sherlock grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to the ground.

Though he was unable to see anything as his face was pressed to the ground, held by the heavy weight of Sherlock, he was able to hear an onslaught of gunshots from close range, causing his ears to ring. When Sherlock finally stood, John sat up on his heels and looked around the room. The paralyzed bodies of the vampires lay in a small pile on the cement floor with D.I. Lestrade standing above them, gun in hand.

“Greg?” John got to his feet, dusting off his clothes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The detective’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I was here the whole time, John. I waited behind and then when you made it to the first floor I waited by the door for Sherlock to give me the signal and…” he cut himself off. “…he didn’t tell you any of this, did he?”

“Of course not!” John spun around to face the other man. “Really, Sherlock, you didn’t think it was important to let me know?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” he dusted off his coat and began picking his belongings up off the ground. “Oh, and Lestrade, was it really necessary to shoot that many times?”

John sighed and crossed his arms. “He means thank you for saving his arse.”

Lestrade chuckled and gestured towards the door. “Doesn’t matter. Go on, there’s a squad car out front, ready to take you home. I’ll deal with this mess.”

John gave him a sheepish smile before following.

“You know,” he said as he and Sherlock got into the back of the car. “I didn’t even know Lestrade was a hunter.”

Sherlock gave him the "could you be any more dull" look.

“Well it’s not like it’s obvious,” John huffed and leaned back in his seat, more than just a little cross with Sherlock at the moment. “You know, I’m never going to complain about those run of the mill murder cases ever again.”

“Mm,” Sherlock hummed noncommittally. “I’ve heard almost being drained of blood can be a real eye opener.”

John turned to look at Sherlock and saw that the man was regarding him with a soft smile. He rolled his eyes but returned the smile before turning towards his window and watching the night sky.

Sherlock annoys him quite a bit, but it’s moments like these that help him realize he wouldn’t change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story! Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
